


The Cavalry is Here

by maxride003



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: FAHC, Fake AH Crew, GTA AU, Gen, Springfairy, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:08:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24103387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maxride003/pseuds/maxride003
Summary: Ryan and Jeremy get into unknown trouble all the time, and usually get themselves out of it. But when something goes wrong, only Gavin believes they're in any real danger, and it's up to him to get them out before the situation gets worse.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 55





	The Cavalry is Here

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anxiety_Induced_Writing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anxiety_Induced_Writing/gifts).



> This was written for the Secret Springfairy event hosted by the RT Writing Community, for my friend Evan! I hope everyone enjoys this little misadventure.

“What are we waiting for, again?” Jeremy groaned, throwing himself back against the hood of his garish car. Ryan sighed, settling back to lean on his palms, his feet swinging gently against the grill of Jeremy’s car. After the first fifteen minutes of waiting, he’d decided just to sit on the hood and relax until it was time to move.

“You’ve been told six times now!” Ryan protested, stretching his leg out to gently kick Jeremy’s arm. “You can’t tell me you forgot.”

“Yeah, but nothing’s happening and I’m  _ bored _ ,” Jeremy insisted, batting Ryan’s foot away with a quick swat of his hand. “Are we sure this is happening tonight? It’s…” He paused, digging his phone out of his pocket and holding it over his face as he thumbed the power button. The light from his home screen washed over his face, reflecting off the sunglasses he wore even late in the evening. “Ten minutes after nine. It was supposed to be  _ at _ nine.”

Ryan snorted and shook his head. “No one said gang activity was punctual.”

“Well we’re gang activity and  _ we _ were early,” Jeremy huffed. “Man, where could these guys be… If they aren’t here in fifteen minutes, I say we go home. We’ll tell Geoff that they took themselves out of the equation, skipped out on their own deal.”

Glancing around the warehouses, then down at his watch, Ryan finally nodded. “Sounds like a good plan to me. I could use an early night.”

The ocean-side warehouses were quiet this time of night. Most of the activity happened during the day, though it wasn’t uncommon for this area to have the occasional late-night visitor. With the personal storage sheds down near the end, there was bound to be one person or another who decided they needed access to their shed in the middle of the night. Tonight, however, everything was empty and silent, save for the sound of the waves lapping against the docks further out, and the constant hum of traffic on the freeway behind them.

It was just near Jeremy’s fifteen minute mark, as Ryan was hopping down from the hood of the car to call it quits, that headlights shone from the gated entrance and spilled onto the pavement. The thin wooden barrier lifted, allowing the car access, and its tires crunched on loose rocks and gravel as the driver slowly entered, and then disappeared down the next alley over.

“Think that’s them?” Jeremy asked, sliding his sunglasses down his nose and peering over them as the red of the car’s taillights faded.

“It’s gotta be. I can’t imagine anyone else out here right now,” Ryan said. He popped open the back of Jeremy’s car, grabbing an automatic rifle from the seats. He checked to make sure he had his pistol in his jacket, and pulled his mask down over his face. On the other side of the car, Jeremy pulled out an SMG, and double checked to make sure his car was locked and alarmed. There was usually a low chance of one of the Rimmy Armada being stolen, since they were so glaringly obvious, but the chance was never zero.

Fully equipped, the two of them followed after the car, down the alleys that encircled the warehouses. Light posts were spaced out a bit too far to be fully helpful, pools of light fading into deep shadows and back. They could hear the car idling, and once they turned the corner, saw it waiting about a hundred feet away. The headlights had been turned off, the taillights providing a faint red glow to the area around, interrupted by trailing wisps of exhaust.

As they got closer, the two of them could hear voices coming from a propped-open access door into the nearby warehouse. It was impossible to tell what they were saying, but Ryan and Jeremy didn’t care much what they were talking about. Trading quick glances, the two of them readied their weapons, approaching the vehicle cautiously.

Ryan raised his gun to the ready, eyeing the side-view mirror for any sign of someone waiting behind the wheel. No one stood out, and he inched forward, peering into the windows of the car, making sure that there wasn’t the risk of being caught from behind. It looked empty, and he turned and gave Jeremy a thumbs up, before they both turned their attention to the warehouse itself.

With a quick, shared nod, Jeremy shoved the door open and burst inside, with Ryan close behind him. Neither one had their guns up and directly threatening, but they were at the ready for any sign of trouble.

A small group had gathered in the warehouse, which mostly seemed to be unused. It was a massive, empty building, with a few crates and storage containers shoved off against the wall near the door, and not much beyond that. The building was lit dimly, only a handful of yellow lights shining in the rafters, giving just enough to see by.

Ryan and Jeremy recognized the people they were facing. Most of them, the Battle Buddies had seen just the last week, at a gun deal that had ultimately gone south. It accounted for five of them, while the other three weren’t recognizable themselves, but their loyalties were. All eight were members of the Sharks, a gang that had been on and off again rivals of the Fakes. They each had a patch with a shark, its teeth red with blood, somewhere on their jackets, and most had a bandana or arm band that was colored blue and white.

“Where’s our guns, Hunter?” Jeremy demanded, his attention fixed on one of the central figures. Hunter was a higher ranking member of the Sharks, and often served as the deal maker and spokesperson of the gang. A tall man with his hair styled in a mohawk, tattoos curling around his knuckles, and multiple facial piercings, he’d been the one to head their most recent deal.

“Why, is there some kind of problem?” Hunter asked, a taunting smirk spreading across his face.

“You know there is,” Ryan said, narrowing his eyes. A couple of the Sharks shifted in their place, leaning a little away from Ryan or avoiding his eyes entirely. The dim lights of the warehouse were only accentuating the contours of his skull mask, setting his eyes further in shadow and glaring off of the white teeth of the mask. “We didn’t pay you for toys.”

Hunter lifted an eyebrow and he spread his hands. “You didn’t pay me for anything,” he said, dropping all pretenses of innocence. His words came out sharp and angry, and Ryan furrowed his brow in confusion.

“We sure didn’t imagine giving you twenty thousand dollars,” Jeremy scoffed. He lifted his gun, training it on Hunter, and Ryan mirrored the action purely on reflex. Immediately, the other Sharks pulled their own weapons, aiming at Ryan and Jeremy.

“And you stole  _ two hundred thousand _ from me, so you still owe me a big chunk of change before we even think of giving you shit,” Hunter spat. Ryan and Jeremy traded looks, neither one quite following where the conversation had gone. “I’ll give your crew guns when you give us back our money.”

Jeremy shook his head, eyes flicking from one member to another, keeping his gun steady in his hands. Eight on two wasn’t good odds, but he was ready to take them if it came to it. “We have no idea what you’re talking about, man. We haven’t taken anything from your crew.”

A fire lit in Hunter’s eyes, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “That bank robbery you all pulled last month,” he said. “Two hundred thousand of that was from  _ our _ boxes,  _ our _ money that we’d put away. You all are going to give us our money back.”

“We don’t have that cash anymore,” Jeremy protested. “We split it and spent it.”

“Maybe you guys should look into some better security for your money,” Ryan suggested. “Cause he’s right, it’s gone. It’s the price of handling business out here.”

Hunter glared between the two of them and took a step forward, apparently unperturbed by the two guns pointed at him. “You are going to pay us back. Right now,” he said coldly. His attention flicked back behind Ryan’s shoulder, and before he could turn and look himself, something hard and solid cracked against his shoulder blades.

Ryan stumbled forward with a shout, his gun tumbling from his hands, and another blow caught him on the back of his head. His vision went dark and he collapsed on the ground. Jeremy let out a cry of rage and fired, the crack of his gun echoed by others that rang and reverberated through the large, metal space. A bullet tore through Hunter’s shoulder, and his cry mixed with Jeremy’s as points of fire alighted in his leg, hip, and upper arm.

A sharp blow to the back of Jeremy’s head sent him crumpling, and before he fully lost consciousness, he heard Hunter hiss through teeth clenched with pain, “This is just the price of handling business out here.” Then Jeremy’s vision went dark.

\-----

Gavin was getting restless and antsy, sitting around at home while everyone else was out doing what they were doing. Geoff had called it “being on call”, which really meant just waiting around for news from one of the teams, or to respond to any calls for help or additional information. It just ended up being a very quiet, boring, and nerve-wracking night.

Geoff, Jack, and Michael had gone out of town for a few days, chasing after a lead on a great heist opportunity. Lindsay and Fiona had deemed tonight a girl’s night out, turning off their phones so they weren’t interrupted. Alfredo, Trevor, and Matt had drawn the short straws and were on stake-out duty far outside town, where the crew had been watching an airstrip for the right time to get in and grab one of the jets that had recently been brought in. Finally, there was Ryan and Jeremy, who had gone to rough up one of the other local gangs and retrieve a missing shipment of guns.

All of that, and Gavin was stuck at home, idly flipping through channels on his TV, and obsessively checking his phone or computer to see if anyone had messaged him. He got the occasional updates, as the night wore on. The stake-out team was bored, and resorted to spending their time lobbing hamburger wrapper balls at one another or trying trick-shots in the car. Gavin got the occasional picture or short video of some of these attempts. Everyone out of town had checked in, their recon was slow but going, they were turning in for the night, catch Gavin in the morning. The girls kept up radio silence, though Gavin knew they were fine on their own.

The worrying thing, as the clocks started to inch toward three in the morning, was that Ryan and Jeremy still hadn’t returned.

It was supposed to have been a quick mission, in and out, back before eleven. And yet, it had been six hours since they should have confronted the Sharks. Six hours to bust some heads, grab some guns, and get gone. It wasn’t sitting right with Gavin, they should have called in by now, and while Gavin himself should’ve been asleep, anxiety tightened his chest and pulled his thoughts away from even trying to lay down.

Gavin grabbed his phone, turned the TV volume down, and called Jeremy. The call went directly to voicemail and Gavin frowned. A call to Ryan did the same thing, and a quiet panic started building up in Gavin’s chest and throat. Both of their phones could have died, but that was a rookie move, going into a job without a charge on a phone.

If their phones were dead or off, it also meant that Gavin couldn’t track the GPS. He frowned, thinking, before an idea struck and he hopped up from the couch, practically launching himself into his computer chair. It slid with the force of his body, bumping up against the desk and setting the screens to rattling.

Gavin quickly pulled up one of his tracking commands, and started hunting down the GPS for the car they’d taken. He had to consult a list of Jeremy’s cars to remember which one it was, and what it was labeled as, but after a minute or so, he had a lock on it.

“That’s weird…” he muttered, frowning at the map and the little red dot glowing on it. The car was still down at the warehouses, down a ways from the main gate. Gavin had been rather hoping to find it in Jeremy’s garage, or even the parking lot of some restaurant or convenience store, somewhere that would’ve made sense for Ryan and Jeremy to go after a job. But they shouldn’t have still been at the warehouses.

After staring at it for a few minutes, willing the screen to give him more information than a satellite image with a dot on it, Gavin hunted for another of his programs. It was typically used to monitor comm usage during jobs, keeping track of audio levels with the earpieces, recording, and it also included a GPS tracking.

The only problem was that most people in the crew left their earpieces at home when they weren’t all out on a job, so most of the tracking was pointless. But, Gavin knew that Jeremy would sometimes remember to grab his before leaving for a small job or something. It was after Jeremy had vanished for a week, run into hiding temporarily when he accidentally crossed someone he shouldn’t have, and Gavin had worried himself sick trying to find him. After Gavin had gone off on him for being stupid when he got back, Jeremy had been more mindful of making sure Gavin could find him.

It took a minute for the program to run through its start-up, and Gavin started bouncing in his chair impatiently, drumming on his desk. Finally, the screen lit up, and Gavin went straight to Jeremy’s information. There wasn’t any audio being transmitted or recorded, that was usually turned off remotely so that the earpieces didn’t die immediately with the strain of constant transmissions, but the GPS was always on.

Pulling up his map, Gavin frowned at the GPS marker, trying to pinpoint it. It was nowhere near the warehouses or Jeremy’s car, nor was it at someone’s house or a usual haunt of Jeremy’s. It seemed to be sending a signal from the middle of absolutely nowhere, a couple miles outside of town. From satellite photos, Gavin couldn’t see anything there but a run-down old house, nothing that would draw Jeremy and Ryan’s attention.

Worry gripped Gavin’s heart as he stared at the images, trying to figure out what it meant. What if something had gone wrong somewhere along the line? What if Jeremy and Ryan were in trouble? It was possible, but also… What if the Sharks were keeping their weapons at this place, and Jeremy and Ryan had tagged along to get them. But if that were the case, what was taking so long, and why was Jeremy’s car still at the warehouses…?

Gavin snatched up his phone again, this time ringing up Geoff. It rang a few times, and Gavin groaned in frustration and impatience, throwing his head back and sprawling more in his chair. Finally, just before it went to voicemail, it connected and Geoff grumbled blearily, “What do you want?”

“I think something happened to Ryan and Jeremy,” Gavin said without preamble, shooting up in his seat and whipping around to stare at the screen again. “They’re still gone, haven’t checked in, and Jeremy’s earpiece is pinging from somewhere outside town, and he left his car behind. Something might’ve gone wrong, Geoff.”

He could hear Geoff moving around on the other end of the phone, rustling and shifting and a low groan. “You sure he and Ryan didn’t just fuck off somewhere again? They’ve done it before,” he asked.

Gavin huffed, throwing his hand up in the air. “Not like this!” he protested loudly, and Geoff grumbled again, something unintelligible. “Jeremy left his  _ car _ behind. He wouldn’t just leave that around for someone to take. And there’s nothing even out there, where the GPS has them.”

Geoff sighed heavily, the speakers crackling with the sound. “Alright, well, we can be back by noon tomorrow, and we can check it out. Just...keep an eye out, if you’re worried. Chances are they went to blow shit up outside of town or something, and they just took another car. Get some sleep, check your tracking whatever in the morning, and we’ll head back.”

“Fine,” Gavin huffed. Geoff mumbled something that sounded vaguely like ‘good night’ and then hung up, leaving Gavin staring down at his phone and fuming. “Bollocks,” he grumbled, flipping through his contacts for one more call.

Trevor answered a lot quicker, with a casual and lightly drawn out, “Hello.”

“Trevor, I think something’s gone wrong and Ryan and Jeremy could be in trouble,” Gavin said, desperately hoping that at least one person would listen.

“Why do you think that?” Trevor asked, his light tone vanishing and being replaced with worry. “Did something happen at the warehouses?”

“I don’t know,” Gavin admitted, spinning back and forth in his chair. “But they should’ve been back hours ago, and Jeremy’s got his earpiece but it puts him in the middle of nowhere, and he didn’t bring his car with him.”

Trevor hummed thoughtfully, then protested, “Hey, those are my fries, hands off.” Gavin could hear Alfredo laughing in the background, and Gavin groaned. “Are you sure they didn’t just wander off again?”

“No, I’m not sure, but why won’t you guys at least consider that they might be in trouble?” Gavin demanded, practically screeching.

“Alright, alright, I hear you,” Trevor said soothingly. “Look, we’re wrapping up here in a few hours. Why don’t you shoot us the address, and we’ll swing by and check it out when we’re done?”

“You all are bloody bellends,” Gavin griped. “Geoff isn’t doing anything right now either. Aren’t you worried?”

Gavin could practically hear Trevor shrug, a small disturbance crackling through the speaker. “Not really,” Trevor admitted. “Look, man, those two are a couple of the best fighters of all of us. And they’re complete assholes who like to disappear without a word. I can count the number of times on one hand that they were actually in trouble, and I’d need to use Alfredo’s fingers to even start counting all the times they weren’t. But you’re worried, so we’ll check it out as we’re heading home. Alright?”

Sighing heavily, Gavin said, “Alright,  _ fine. _ But if they really are in trouble, you owe me and them an apology.”

“Deal,” Trevor said readily.

Gavin gave him the address and the call ended, leaving him with just his computer and quiet TV.

For a moment, Gavin stared at the computer screen and the little GPS dot, before he growled to himself and pushed himself up. If no one else was going to do anything, then he’d do it all himself. Waiting hours didn’t seem right, not if they were actually in danger, and Gavin threw his shoes on with haste. He was a bad cavalry, but he might be the best those two had.

\-----

Gavin squinted through his windshield, frowning at the house Jeremy’s GPS signal had led him to. He’d parked on the other side of the road, off on the shoulder of the lightly traveled highway, so he could get a look at the building without drawing too much attention.

It matched what he’d seen in the satellite photo, a run down garbage house, one that had a bit of a lean to it like it was drunk. Lights were on, but the yard was dark, very little of the light making its way past the curtains that were pulled over every window. A couple cars sat in the driveway, and smoke curled from the crooked chimney.

It didn’t at all look like somewhere Ryan and Jeremy would go intentionally, nothing like one of their usual hang-outs. If they’d gone out for a spot of chaos, they wouldn’t have chosen some random house in the middle of fuck-off nowhere, they’d be up in the mountains blowing rocks to bits, or tearing through the city itself to see how many cop cars they could get to trail them.

Taking a deep breath, Gavin grabbed his gun from the passenger seat and slid out of the car. He had to at least know, had to go up and see if he could find any sign of his friends, and he didn’t want to wait for Trevor, Alfredo, and Matt to make their way over on their own time.

Gavin scurried across the road, inching warily down the short driveway up to the house. He walked in a partial crouch, gun held ready in shaking hands, and he tried to keep from hyperventilating or making noise. He had no idea what he was walking into, what he might be up against, and might’ve ended up far out of his league.

Keeping a careful eye on the front door, Gavin crept around the parked vans, inching his way up to the windows. The curtains were fully closed, no cracks through them, though he swore he saw dark shapes moving about on the other side. There was the low murmur of conversation that buzzed at the glass of the windows, completely unintelligible through the layers that separated Gavin from whoever was inside.

He circled around the outside of the building, peering into the windows. Gavin didn’t realize the ground sloped down a gradual hill that the house didn’t follow, until he found himself standing on his toes to look into a ground-floor window around the back of the house.

Glancing down, Gavin noticed light spilling out into the grass from a more poorly covered, narrow window set low to the ground. He dropped down to his hands and knees, face to face with a thin basement window with a much lighter covering over it. Since this window didn’t face a road or any other public access, and it was so small, maybe whoever was here thought it was fine to not use actual curtains. It was at least far better for Gavin that they did, since it told him there was definitely a problem.

Ryan and Jeremy were in the basement, and neither one looked good. Jeremy seemed to be unconscious, sitting with his back against a wooden support, and it looked like his arms might’ve been tied behind it. Blood stained his pants and jacket, rough bandages wrapped around that did little to hide the actual injuries and probably weren’t the most effective at handling them. He was missing his always present cowboy hat, and his sunglasses were broken on the floor next to him.

More central in the room was Ryan, and Gavin wasn’t quite sure if he was unconscious as well. He was strapped to a heavy looking metal chair, tied at his wrists, elbows, and ankles. Blood stood out harshly against the white paint around his mouth, and it looked like one of his eyes was swollen closed. His jacket had been removed, and cuts worked their way up his bare arms, as well as darker burn marks.

Gavin’s breath caught in his throat and he started shaking, his stomach threatening to get rid of whatever he’d last eaten. He'd known something was wrong, and it was very, very wrong. Ryan and Jeremy didn’t look like they were in any condition to get out of this on their own, and Gavin didn’t know why the Sharks had lashed out so violently, but he wasn’t really going to try and ask.

For a moment, Gavin could only stare in horror, until there was some loud noise that echoed through the house and made him jump. His brain kicked into action, and Gavin scrambled for his phone. He pulled it up and opened the camera, taking a quick picture of the situation. When he lowered the phone, Ryan met his eyes, and Gavin nearly screamed. He clamped a hand over his mouth, a low shout barely getting out past his fingers as he fell back in surprise.

Ryan’s eyes widened, or the one that wasn’t swollen, and he shook his head at Gavin, mouthing something that Gavin couldn’t quite make out. Gavin frowned and shook his head back, holding up a finger as he shuffled away from the window. He just caught Ryan saying his name, before he was moving away.

The picture was texted to Trevor, and it only took a second for him to respond.

_ What the fuck?? OK, we’re coming. _

Gavin relaxed just slightly, knowing that someone was finally coming to back him up, but he didn’t want to just leave. Ryan and Jeremy were right there, they were hurt and needed help, and the others were at least a half hour away if they really pushed their car.

The front door opened and Gavin jumped, slowly inching his way around the back of the house and peering around to the front. Louder voices spilled into the yard, laughter and jests that seemed dark and out of place. Car doors opened, and two engines started up. A minute later, both of the parked cars pulled away.

This was Gavin’s chance to actually do something, when they were gone, and Ryan and Jeremy were all alone. He grabbed his gun tightly and nodded to himself, setting about finding a way inside the house.

His way in ended up being a back window that he could get to wiggle and slide up with a bit of effort. The windowsill was about eye height, and Gavin spun around for anything that would give him a leg up. A discarded lawn chair, tumbled down to the bottom of the hill, caught his eye and Gavin hurried down to get it. One of the plastic legs was missing, but he dragged it up to the house and propped it up against the wall, letting the wall support it.

The broken chair wobbled precariously as Gavin climbed on top of it, and he held his arms out to keep his balance. With a grunt of effort, Gavin grabbed the sill and pulled himself in through the window, landing with a heavy thump in the room beyond.

Grimacing, Gavin looked around, raising his gun just in case someone was still around. He’d ended up in a dining room, a sturdy table surrounded by mismatched chairs, a couple of which didn’t even fit around its edge. The tile floor was dirty, covered in crumbs and dust, and Gavin scrunched up his nose as he got to his feet and brushed himself off.

If anyone was around, they must have missed his entrance, since Gavin didn’t hear any movement around him. He moved slowly through the house, cracking open doors in search for the stairs down to the basement. It took him a minute, but Gavin found them in a small room that also seemed to be used as a laundry room. Which really seemed quite dangerous, what if someone misstepped and fell down the basement steps?

“You’d better not be leading us on,” someone said from below, and Gavin slowly inched his way down the stairs, trying to step on the edges to keep them from creaking.

“Why would I do that?” Ryan answered. His voice was rough and hoarse, and Gavin’s heart started racing. “I’d like to go take a nap. I don’t want to stick around here all night, waiting for you to find some spare change.”

There was the solid smack of impact and Ryan grunted. Halfway down the stairs, Gavin knelt down on the steps, able to peer through the railing from the height of the basement’s ceiling. Ryan leaned his head back in his chair, rolling his jaw. In front of him stood Hunter, one of the Sharks that Gavin recognized, since he tended to pop up when the gang had something big go down. Gavin had been keeping tabs on him, though didn’t realize he had ties to some shit house outside of town.

“Your smart mouth is gonna get you killed,” Hunter said.

Ryan let out a breath and nodded, flashing a smile that showed off blood-stained teeth. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before.”

His eyes flicked over to the stairs and Ryan froze for a second before looking quickly away to keep from giving Gavin’s position away. Gavin took a breath and hold it, moving further down the stairs, his hands shaking as he lifted his gun at the ready.

Hunter started to turn, and Ryan quickly spoke up again. “You know, you could have just  _ talked _ to us. We didn’t know we were stealing from you,” he said, making Hunter pause and turn back to Ryan, letting Gavin get another couple steps down and get a shot without a railing between himself and Hunter.

“Would any of you have listened?” Hunter scoffed. “You don’t give a shit, don’t even pretend - What the fuck?” A little late, Gavin saw a mirror across the room, hanging above a little industrial sink, and through it he met Hunter’s eyes.

Hunter spun and Gavin fired with a surprised squawk, scrambling down the stairs before he fell. His shot landed, but wasn’t as impactful as he’d hoped, hitting Hunter in the torso beneath his ribs but not dropping him. Hunter staggered, grabbing for his injury, and snatched a heavy mallet from a nearby table top.

Gavin shot again in panic, this one going wide, despite his close proximity. Hunter stalked forward and raised the mallet, swinging down as Gavin squeezed off another shot.

There was the echoing bang of the gun, a crack, a scream. It took Gavin a second to realize he was screaming until pain and shock took his breath away, his vision flashing red, white, black, and then slowly fading in again.

As Gavin’s eyes focused and he managed to take a shaky, gasping breath, he noticed Hunter was collapsed on the floor in front of him, blood spreading slowly from his body and staining the concrete floor. Gavin looked from him, down to where a sharp pain was radiating out from his leg, and he choked back a pained sob. The mallet had collided solidly with his leg, snapping the bone, Gavin’s leg bent at an odd angle just below the knee.

“How the hell did you miss?” Ryan demanded, his eyes flicking from Gavin to Hunter. “He was two feet away from you!”

“I...I -” Gavin said, choking on his words, as once again his stomach threatened to rebel. Ryan’s eyes softened with concern. “I got him, at least.”

“Well, yeah, you did. Could’ve gotten him without getting got yourself, though,” Ryan said, but any heat had left his words. “Can you get up? We need to leave. I sent them off on a wild goose chase, but they won’t be gone long.”

Gavin frowned, putting a hand to his head, his fingers shaking. He took a few gulping breaths and nodded, slowly starting to force himself upright. Any little motion sent pain shooting out from his broken leg and Gavin whimpered, but finally got himself balanced on his good leg.

“Is Jeremy okay?” he grated out through clenched teeth.

Ryan looked around at Jeremy and grimaced. “I dunno. He got shot up when we were grabbed, I think. He’s been in and out. Hunter knocked him a bit silly not too long ago.” Ryan looked back, and up at the stairs. “Did you come here by yourself?”

“Yeah,” Gavin said with a faint bitterness. “No one else would come. Trevor’s on his way now, but it’ll be a bit.”

As Gavin hopped his way through the room, pausing every few seconds to suck in a breath and try to ignore the pounding pain in his leg, he felt Ryan’s eyes on him. “Hey. Don’t hurt yourself more. Slow down,” he said worriedly.

“If I slow down, I won’t get up,” Gavin said with a wry smile. He looked dubiously at the expanse of floor between the table he was leaning on and Ryan, before taking a deep breath and hopping the distance on one foot. It was like playing hop-scotch, except if he wobbled and needed to use his other foot, he’d end up falling and probably passing out.

Gavin grabbed onto the chair desperately, his knuckles going white with the pressure he put on it. Ryan turned to look at him, frowning. Steadying himself, Gavin dug around in his pocket for a pocket knife and flipped it open. He started hacking at the coarse ropes holding Ryan in place, and as soon as he’d freed one of his hands, Ryan reached up and grabbed his wrist.

“Gavin, sit down,” he said firmly, taking the knife from Gavin’s hand. “Seriously, you’re going to pass out like this. Please, sit.” Gavin opened his mouth to protest, but couldn’t form any coherent words, and sighed. He sank to the ground, his leg stretched out in front of him, and once he stopped moving, the pain dulled to a horrible throb. But it wasn’t sharp and stabbing anymore, as long as Gavin didn’t move.

Ryan cut himself free the rest of the way and stood up. Gavin noticed him wobbling slightly, and he rubbed at the back of his head with a grimace. Blood stained his hair, his fingers, his arms, his face.

“I just wanted to help,” Gavin mumbled, feeling stupid and foolish as he sat while Ryan, who looked so much worse, got up and worked on fixing it.

Blinking down in surprise, Ryan circled the chair and knelt down in front of Gavin. Gavin noticed one of his arms hung limply at his side, and he seemed to be favoring his side, likely from some kind of injury to his ribs. “You did help,” he said strongly, grinning. “God damn, did you help. I never would’ve expected you to come breaking your way in here after us. Thanks, Gav.” He reached out and squeezed Gavin’s shoulder, before standing with a low groan.

“But you sit there and don’t break yourself more. I’m good, I’d just like us all to get out of here more or less in one piece,” Ryan added. Ryan went over to Jeremy and crouched by his side, speaking gently as he cut Jeremy free. Jeremy eventually roused, blinking blearily up at Ryan with a weak smile, before looking over at Gavin and frowning.

“What’re you doing here, Gav?” he asked, his words a bit slurred and running together.

“He’s our rescue,” Ryan said, trying to get under Jeremy’s arm to help him up. Ryan winced and let out a sharp hiss of breath as Jeremy leaned on him, and though he got Jeremy to his feet, both of them were leaning heavily on each other and the wooden post. “Got hurt, though.”

Jeremy frowned, looking from Gavin to his leg. “Are you okay, Gavin? Why’d you come here on your own? Where’s everyone else? Are you able to walk?”

Gavin couldn’t help the sharp laugh that broke free from his chest. “Why are you two worried about  _ me _ ? You’re the ones who look like you’re damn well dying, aren’t you?” he asked.

Ryan and Jeremy glanced at each other, and Jeremy chuckled while Ryan shrugged. “This isn’t really something new for us,” Ryan admitted. “Just a couple gunshot wounds. Bruised ribs, bruised...bruises, cuts. But that’s it.”

“That’s  _ it _ ?” Gavin asked incredulously. “You guys get captured and tortured, and what, it’s...it’s a normal bloody evening?”

“Something like,” Jeremy said. He frowned down at Gavin. “Thanks for coming, really. But are you okay? You shouldn’t rush into something like this on your own.”

Gavin spluttered out a protest that had no real words, before finally settling on, “You two are fucking mad.”

It wasn’t much longer before Trevor, Alfredo, and Matt arrived. They were armed and ready for a fight, but were surprised to find that there were no Sharks left alive in the house. They were more surprised to find Gavin sitting injured, while the Battle Buddies were at least standing and trying to get their bearings and get their wounds tended as much as they could.

“What the fuck, Gavin!” Trevor said, as he and Matt helped get Gavin up to his feet. “Why did you go  _ inside _ ? We were on our way!”

“Well I wouldn’t have had to go alone if you’d listened to me before, would I, Trevor?” Gavin demanded. Trevor smiled weakly and nodded, allowing the point.

“Okay, true. Sorry I didn’t listen,” he said.

“But man, that was really stupid of you,” Matt said, smiling in the face of Gavin’s scowl. “Am I  _ wrong _ ?”

“Shut up,” Gavin griped, shoving him in the chest, and Matt only chuckled. Alfredo worked with Ryan and Jeremy to get them moving up the stairs, Matt breaking away from Gavin to follow behind them, while Trevor served as a crutch.

It might’ve been stupid, but Gavin was damn proud of himself for doing it. And his heart was so much lighter, knowing that Ryan and Jeremy were safe and going home. He knew he’d get chewed out by Geoff when those three got back, probably faced a lecture from Jack as well, but Gavin would do it again if he needed to.

It was his crew. And though Gavin wasn’t the best for it, he’d fight for it just like anyone else.


End file.
